


Monochrome

by Wolf_Born



Category: Original Work
Genre: Horror, Original Character(s), Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26021500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_Born/pseuds/Wolf_Born
Summary: Christopher Vesko, age Seventeen, sat at his mahogany desk tapping his sneakers against the legs of the worn fold up chair as he scribbled doodles instead of completing the homework that was assigned that day. The day. The day before his 18th birthday. The day when his whole life became a collaboration of fear and confusion. The day Nightmares became real and had voices of their own. The day Christopher Vesko went missing without a trace.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	Monochrome

Christopher Vesko, age Seventeen, sat at his mahogany desk tapping his sneakers against the legs of the worn fold up chair as he scribbled doodles instead of completing the homework that was assigned that day. The day. The day before his 18th birthday. _The_ day when his whole life became a collaboration of fear and confusion. The day Nightmares became real and had voices of their own. The day Christopher Vesko went missing without a trace.   


\---  


Christopher was never a bad child. Always did what his parents have asked, listened in class, and always, _always,_ tried to find the good in everything and everyone. A true optimist if there ever was one and yet, one day, he vanished. His existence seemingly erased from the world.

There were signs, strange happenings he thought were mere hallucinations caused by his severe insomnia. Sights and visions only conjured up in dreams. 

On the dreaded day, his last day, a bald man wearing nothing at all sat in the back of the Spanish homeroom with his arms around his knees. He sat facing the wall, trembling, shaking, hyperventilating. Christopher tried with all his might not to look at the naked man but it was impossible. Who couldn't steal a glance from something so bizarre? Christopher never felt such instant regret when his eyes fell on the man only for him to turn around without a face. A scene it was when Christopher jumped in his chair so intensely his desk banged against the back seat of Audrey Benson who turned and gave him the dirtiest look he'd ever gotten in his life. More instances like this occurred throughout the day. 

As it turned out Christopher couldn't even go to the bathroom without being tormented by the sights. He'd sit in a stall only for the same hyperventilating noises to start up again. Fingers curled from underneath the stalls sides and door, and then on top. Dragging their nails along the stall, slowly extending from finger to hand then to arm stopping nor further than the elbow. 

"This isn't real. Relax, this isn't real. You're just tired," Christopher closed his eyes repeating these words over and over, "It's not real. It's not possi-"

_Bang!_

The sudden impact rattled the walls forcing a scream from his throat. 

"What the fuck asshole!? You rubbing one out? You've been in there for ten fucking minutes!" 

Christopher's eyes shot open at the voice of an angry student blinking when he realized everything was as it should be. Normal. No arms or fingers. No scratching nails. Nothing. He felt as though he could sigh of relief for the rest of his life. 

When he finally opened the door he was grabbed by the shirt and yanked out of the stall his feet almost dragging across the tiled restroom floor. Brown hair fell in his face, glasses skidding under a sink as he grabbed the wrist of his assailant. Christopher peered up with squinted eyes trying to make out who it was only to murmur "fuck" at the blurry face of John Grasa. His classmate. His friend. Best friend. 

"Holy fuck Johnny is that you?! Did you know it was me in here? Holy shit! When'd you get back? I-I saw all those pics of you posted around town and shit." 

Johnny released the grip on his shirt and Christopher went for his glasses without a second thought until he put them on and brushed the hair out of his face. 

"Your mom went crazy asking around about you," he paused to wash his hands as if he remembered he hadn't done it yet then continued while drying his hands, "Kept calling and stopping by unannounced. Swear she went digging around my room once so my parents threatened to call it in, haven't seen her since."

"Yeah, sorry about that." 

Nothing else. Nothing. Johnny just looked down as his hands fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie. 

"The fuck? Is that all you gotta say? You were gone for three weeks asshole!"

Johnny stepped back arms up in surrender and Christopher chucked the paper towel he used to dry his hands into the trash bin. Looking back at John he took in his appearance, a sinking feeling washed over him, he was wearing the same exact clothes from when he last saw Johnny weeks ago. The same dark blue Jean's with a tear on both knees, faded gray sneakers from a brand he's never heard of, a peek of a white shirt under a black hoodie with a band logo he also never heard of. In fact, there was nothing different regarding his friends attire. Not a speck of dirt or staining, hell even his hair looked washed. It was like he never disappeared. And... John only fidgeted when he was hiding something. 

"Johnny," Chris hesitated, "Where did you go? Hell, do they even know you're back?!" 

John shrugged his should looking away with a guilty expression. Chris blinked in rapid succession and shook his head in disbelief. Now it was him who grabbed John by his clothes.

"Fuck no! Don't you fucking dare just shrug your me off! I've been seein weird shit man, seeing and hearing and- and fuck!"

At that John finally looked at him going rigid in Chris's grasp before relaxing. As he looked up at Chris, with a smile slowly etching it way onto his face, John leaned closer and whispered in a voice that didn't sound quite like his own. His words drowned out the announcement "Christopher Vesko please report to the Main Office. Christopher Vesko, plea-". 

"You'll go missing too." 

This was the breaking point for Chris. He cocked back his fist and swung it just as the restroom door opened and Mr. Rogers, who always had jokes shot at him asking how the neighborhood was, stepped in only to pause at the sight of one of his students thrusting his fist through the air with such aggression he fell to the floor. 

A moment of silence passed before Chris looked around with wide eyes. Shock written allover his face. John Grasa was nowhere to be seen. Gone. Vanished. _For the second time._ No, he was never here to begin and upon this revelation Chris breathed shakily. 

"What in gods name are you doing in here Mr. Vesko?" 

Chris shot his head in the direction of his English teacher. Before he could begin to explain himself a nauseating feeling struck him and he lurched forward throwing up the little he at during lunch after which left him dry heaving. Ears ringing with the words Johnny spoke. Over and over again in his head. 

_You'll go missing too._

_You'll go missing too._

_You'll go missing too._


End file.
